Calling To The Night
by en-lumine
Summary: Oneshot - MKX comics. Kenshi finds Suchin bleeding to death in her paltry house in Lampang. Both seek out the solace of the other, reminiscing the past, dreading the future. Please read and review!


**HELLO EVERYONE =D**

Hope you all had a great time during the holidays – all the best wishes for the new year ahead! *distributes milk and cookies to all!*

Now I mentioned on Tumblr I was working on a sap piece – Kenshi/Suchin as he finds the latter bleeding to death in Thailand. Well, it is here :P

The main inspiration for this came from my iPod :P I've referenced some song I was listening to that just sparked the need to write this out – hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it xD

Just a heads up – so this ties in with my other Kenshi/Takeda story, the Takahashi Family Saga. I'll list some important references here so you don't have to read that (woolly) mammoth from the start :P

 **Dara** – Suchin's mom, aka, the old lady with the bun from the comics.

 **Kazimir** – Kenshi's "real" name, based off of his dad's name. He stopped using it after he was blinded.

 **Suchin (herself)** – I headcanon her to be a simple everywoman. She is not a deadly assassin whos great at handling blades, nor a kung-fu master. Rather, she's a very simple, albeit spunky and ambitious woman, who wants to master the English language, seek out her father and get a job as a translator in an embassy.

Her 'affair' with Kenshi, was covert, and her mother was strictly against it. [I don't want to reveal too much, but she's a fascinating char to me, and I really want to write a Kenshi/Suchin romance arc in the TFS, so I'll zip it for now :P]

 **The Matriarch/Sento** – Kenshi's sword, who likes to talk to him :P The Matriarch is just the title of the genderbent Kenshi-lady hanging in Kung Jin's chapter in the new game, who was an ancestor to the Takahashis. [I have a long-ass headcanon about that, so check out Chapter 11 of the TFS if you're interested at all :)]

Anyhow, just a final disclaimer before we can get into the meat of it :3

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Zero, nada, zilch. And that is incredibly sad.**

* * *

 ** _'Calling to the Night'_**

* * *

' _So this, is how it all ends…'_

The end. The end was nigh. It was real, and it was truer than any truth she had perhaps ever known. Suchin was to die on this unassuming, evil night; cold and bitterly alone.

The old timepiece ticked off the seconds – a mechanic tick that was lifeless, yet strangely powerful, as it quantified whatever little time she had left. She had no idea for how long she had been lying in the midst of all this blood: It could have been mere seconds, or perhaps, a few centuries. She vaguely registered the rolling thunder out in darkness of the night, and then, the pattering of the rain as it poured onto the thin roof. Suchin found the sound of the rain more welcoming than the clock ticking away her life, and thus chose to focus on it instead.

The pain engulfed her, deep inside the hollow of her chest; arresting her breathing, making it difficult to inhale. She only recalled one shot from the pistol, but the pain was utterly indescribable. And the blood…

Was it all really hers? Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, rolling down the temples and into her thick raven hair, now drenched with the same crimson. Hers or her attackers, it hardly mattered now, did it?

A quivering gasp echoed in the empty living quarters – bouncing off the threadbare, sparse furniture, the dead bodies and the once-whitewashed walls, now splattered with trails and drops of gore. Lifeless, like the ticking clock, as was her own destiny.

Time and all its perceptions had vanished altogether from the figments of her broken mind. All that was left was bits and pieces, recollections and reflections, memories and desires long suppressed; swirling within like a raging storm, rising to the fore with unparalleled urgency, threatening to pierce out from her bleeding body and materialise before her very eyes.

" _N-noo…"_

She thought she heard voices, and footsteps, but Suchin neither had the strength to affirm them, nor the will to do so. It was not the first time she deluded herself into thinking she was not alone. She absolutely was, no point in fooling herself in these last few moments.

A bloody cough racked through her being. Her limbs were distended, seeming as if they were laden with lead, as her entire body convulsed with its ferocity. With a monumental effort, she managed to heave up a forearm and turn to her side, relieving the strain on her lungs, even as it came at the cost of another stream of bleeding.

' _Not as lifeless as you thought, Suchin.'_ In some corner of her mind, she had enough consciousness to remark internally. This bloodied, bleeding vessel had some semblance of life left, though she often wondered whether her life was worth living at all. The loss of this should not impact her so then.

But it did.

For what seemed like time immemorial now, she had existed only for the little boy she had birthed. Cold, alone and crying – just as Takeda was, in his first few moments in this world…

Just as she was now, laying in her own gore, awaiting death.

No. This was for her son. Her wonderful Takeda. The light of her eyes. The soothing calm to her embittered, struggling soul. With that innocent smile, and those cornfield blue eyes…

And with that, the woman's thoughts took a turn. It was as if trying to summon the memory of a mirage, to voice the whispers of a long-gone era, when she had been unbound, careless and free.

" _Suchin…"_

And hopelessly, terribly in love.

Her eyes flooded again, crystalline tears glittering in the harsh, fluorescent light. Despite the throbbing in her chest, Suchin recognised an old wave of pain, one that did not hurt, but rather, _burned_.

As if she had been doused and set aflame to burn for all of eternity in the dizzying madness of it all.

She burned as – as she had been burning for so long, and she danced; her arms thrown to the heavens in both glee and agony, and revelled in the longstanding ache of old wounds, that dwarfed the bullet wound to her lungs.

The mere thought ravaged her inside, but she welcomed it with open arms. How could she not? Despite the years, the betrayals and the desolation that spanned in between them, he remained her one, and only beloved –

The noble, ancestral warrior; Takahashi Kenshi, or her cruel, passionate soulmate, Kazimir? Suchin often had difficulty ascertaining whom she loved truly. Perhaps they both manifested themselves in the blind swordsman. He always said we were more than what we thought of ourselves…

Perhaps she too, was more than just a poor, single mother, struggling to make ends meet. Maybe, somewhere out there, in someone's eyes…

Just as she used to be to him, in his blind eyes that saw everything…

At the brink of death, it again, did not matter.

He had been her heaven, and he proved her hell. Every moment spent with him, every thought she had confessed to him, every night that she had lain in his embrace…

It was not love, that she was certain. It was not flowers, sunshine and morning kisses. Not the least how they painted it in the movies, she pondered wryly. What she felt – no, _feels_ for the silent swordsman was something far deeper, far purer and far more painful than a simple romance. It was a fire - raw, and carnal – that gnawed away at the soul, eroded all manner of rationality… and resulted in a piercing yearning - to touch and feel his heart beating within that hardened chest, to gaze into his pearly blind eyes - that brought with it an unsurmountable, yet welcome torment.

She always tried to overcome every time it hit her. But tonight, she was overwhelmed on every front. After what seemed like eons, Suchin drowned herself in the presence of his being, even if he existed only in her mind.

She loved him. She loved him with every fibre of her being, and iota of her soul. She forgave him – he had too many burdens to carry on his shoulders as it was.

" _You'll be all right! I'm here now…"_

And how powerful, how alluring was it all – she swore she saw his face swimming before her own eyes through her own tears – more chiseled and angular than before, mouth agape, his blindfold dripping wet. His voice, tender and low in her ears, gravelly yet soft.

Her spirit soared within her, and she rose up to meet the wondrous enigma, the knight of her dreams.

Love was truly, and absolutely, blind; it had rendered her so as well.

* * *

His worst fears had come to. The cursed Red Dragon had got to her before the swordsman could reach her – and now lay the woman he had truly loved, drawing in her last few breaths in his arms.

That moment, where fact merged with fiction, and reality melted with delusion: Suchin forgave Takahashi Kenshi, for all that occurred, and befell her.

And unbeknownst to her, he read the forgiveness before he could announce his arrival to her.

Kenshi was not losing her, he had already _lost_ her. Lost her to the decade he'd spent without her. Lost her to the damnation of his work. And though he knew ought to respond to her, at least let her know he was not a delusion or a mirage in her dying mind, he could not beckon his voice.

It felt as if the most tender part of his being had been crushed beyond repair, and he was left to pick up the broken pieces.

' _Death draws nearer – it is too late to save her life. There is not much time, Kenshi. You must speak to her…'_

The voices in the Sento were hushed, save for the Matriarch; and as foreign as the notion appeared to him, Kenshi could not deny the logic in her words.

He rushed and took seat beside the dazed, but conscious woman within the blink of an eye. Steeling himself, he checked for her pulse, finding it erratic, and her hands already cold to the touch.

Hours of running and nerve-wrecking stress was forgotten as he focused all his attention on the injured woman. With deliberate, careful movements he touched her face – deftly wiping away her tears, using the back of his fingers to caress her smooth cheeks before combing through her hair.

' _Don't you dare die on me, don't!'_ he willed in vain, knowing all was futile at this point. Even if the back-up forces arrived ahead of time, her injuries were far too grave to survive a day's worth of journey to the nearest hospital.

It was already too late.

 _'Say goodnight; Do not be afraid…'_

His hands trembled as he pulled her weak body into his lap, and cradled her face. Not much had changed in these past few years, Kenshi wistfully discerned. Yet her body felt harder beneath the soft skin, her ribs protruding from a concave stomach, collar bones jutting from her shoulders. She had been healthy, but on rough times, as he was briefed along the journey.

He could feel the weakening cells underneath his fingertips, the cold, synoptic touch of death setting in already. He could feel the heart slowing down, every dying beat pumping out whatever remaining blood that was left in her body.

The swordsman nevertheless, continued to apply pressure to the wound, to stem the bleeding somehow – buy her more time.

She was still beautiful, he pondered as his mind raced – that undying radiance of her soul shone brightly, even in the brink of death as it teetered along the abyss of oblivion. Untouched by the corruption of the world and the fallacies of her own ambitions; further purified by the sacrifices she alone made, for him, for his sake. Kenshi was humbled, and indebted – as he struggled to find the words to address her.

"It's me, Suchin," he spoke, hoarse, after several long moments, knots tightening in his throat and preventing him from going any further.

If only he had returned to her, if only he had known, if only…

She smiled – the same soft, beautiful smile he had lovingly trailed with his fingers so long ago.

"Do you… remember me?" Suchin whispered, raising an arm, extending her fingers toward him. Her mind was a myriad of incoherent thoughts and memories, yet all fixated on him. As Kenshi read those thoughts, his sensation of guilt intensified – as if a black hole had opened up in the center of his chest, sucking away his ability to rationalise anything.

Her words tore at his heart. How could he forget someone like her? She had come in with the subtlety of a gentle breeze, and breathed life into his world, forever darkened by the loss of sight. How could he begin to tell her how much he'd missed her, how he had yearned and ached to hold her again? That she had touched him profoundly, and would never have the need for recognition in his eyes?

Yet like a haunting, dark omen, Kenshi was painfully aware of how mismatched such words were in contrast to his actions. Mere feelings could not change the reality – that he _had_ taken Suchin for granted, that he had deserted her to pursue Shang Tsung; that vengeance meant more to him that protecting the one he loved.

' _If only she had told me before … If only-'_ he thought to himself, only to be interrupted by the Sento, as it spoke again:

' _Think of the heir! There is not much time…!'_

He nodded a response to her, slowly – biting the insides of his own cheeks, furrowing his brows and clenching his eyes shut - as he fought to wrest control from the maddening emotions threatening to consume him. Destiny had bestowed this one cruel favour upon him, to witness Suchin's last few moments – he had a lifetime ahead of him to rue and curse his own selfishness and stupidity.

"You never wrote… back…" she spoke, pausing for breath; and through freshened tears, though her expression remained calm; as if nothing could hurt her anymore.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his own lips at the memory. He had received some of them, often months late if he was returning from the outer realms. Takahashi Kenshi was lettered – and fluent in several Asian languages. With his highly developed sensitivity, he could 'read' Suchin's neat writing, by feeling the impressions of pen on paper.

However _writing_ itself was not his forte. And almost two decades of blindness rendering him incapable of practicing did not work in his favour, either. The letters were themselves, full of mindless, casual details – never a word about the possibility of his son – ceased eventually.

And once the Netherrealm war was over, he found himself simply too inundated with work to make time to call, or visit her. The previously covert OIA operations now were fully legalised after the invasion, and public scrutiny was intense; the 'heroes' of the realm were bogged down by the mundanities of managing its security; and so, the promises to return thus remained unfulfilled.

"I never found anyone who'd have the patience to be my scribe…" He spoke quietly, yet with a rueful smile. He had forgotten how _easy_ it was to talk to her, how simply words came easily to him in her presence.

"Special Forces. Outworld. So many realms –" Suchin began, before pausing to catch her breath. "And you could not find a single, decent girl to write for you?"

He shook his head, as tears formed in his eyes – at both, the careless simplicity of the question, as well as its piercing innocence. Kenshi, nevertheless, decided to play along – for old time's sake.

"Things with my last scribe didn't end so well. Though skilled, she put a sword to my throat; and that _my own_ blade…"

He softly caressed her neck, mind reeling years back, when he was stationed as a free agent in Thailand. Suchin had been his 'scribe' in the villagers' eyes; a mere ruse. She would sneak to his hut, often under the pretext of writing some reports for him, or to 'learn' self-defence techniques from him.

He knew even then how risky the arrangement was, but it served as the perfect cover for her to secretly meet him, right under Dara's nose.

And the incident of her putting a blade to his throat, was coincidentally, a memory from the night they first consummated their love.

Suchin let out a small, breathy laugh.

"My, my… How terrible of her…" she whispered back, wincing, but with a slight playful tone.

"Besides, who else could I trust to be my eyes but you, Suchin?"

"You haven't changed one bit…" she spoke after a brief pause, while reaching out to stroke his jaw, smiling at the memories as they surfaced in her own mind.

"Neither have you," he replied wanly, as he grasped her hand on his face.

Suchin sighed, settling in deeper into his lap. Her eyes, shining bright only moments ago, now dimming as the seconds went by. The reunion began well, but she fully knew it wouldn't end that way.

"Yet… Everything has…" she trailed off, a sole tear trailing down the side of her face. He could not manage a reply – and a crushing silence, heavy with volumes of unspoken words, hung in between the two, like a curtain, shrouding the duo.

"How, Kenshi… how did it come to this?" Her tone was airy, her words subdued. Yet there was a peculiar tiredness in her voice, one that the swordsman had never heard before.

Another bloody cough hit her, as an ice-cold hand flew to her throat. Kenshi helplessly held her shoulders as the fit ceased.

"I…" he began, but could not connect one thought to another, nor form the words to answer the question. The lump in his throat swelled, bringing tears to his eyes again, until he finally choked, brokenly: "It's all – my fault.."

"No, Kenshi… You were a dream, my dream… It's me… I should have known…" She held his face in both her hands, fingers loosely caressing the hollows of his eyes. He immediately honoured her unspoken wish, and took off his blindfold.

"Never, never you, Suchin. Don't say that…" he cajoled, in an almost a pleading tone, shaking his head, allowing the tears to roll down his own face. Exposed, he turned his face sideways, his expression twisting into one of pain.

Her cold hand wiped his eyes, and trailed down his face, onto his chest – awakening memories from long ago, invigorating forgotten sentiments – and before he knew it, Kenshi had pressed his lips to hers to convey his longing and regret, in lieu of words that he knew would fail him.

He could taste her blood, and her tears even through her weak response. He finally broke away, his head spinning, fear of losing her inflating in the middle of his chest.

Suchin sighed softly, and shivered – evidently, from the loss of blood – her eyes closed, chest heaving from the effort. The pounding of the rain intensified – as if the heavens themselves wept for the blind swordsman, and his dying love.

"I still have it… your parting gift…" Suchin whispered after several long, peaceful moments. She stretched out her hand, her fingers brushing the hilt of the _wakizashi_ blade, still bloodied from the remains of her attackers. Kenshi beckoned the object to him telekinetically, and frowned as he slowly recalled the forgotten blade, one he used to bear before he lost his sight in many of his countless duels.

It clattered from his fingers, as thunder roared deafeningly again outside. Part of him could not believe Suchin would keep such a worthless item for so long; the other part did not wish to believe she had borne it in kombat.

"I left you with more than just my old blade, Suchin," he began, his own tone more sad than angry – feeling as if a million humiliating defeats had been inflicted to him this one night. Kenshi could not even fathom the thought of his son – and the fact that the woman he held, was his mother. All he felt, all he _saw_ , was that the girl he left behind, was now at the verge of death – suffering in his stead, for the sins he committed, and would never die.

"Takeda," she breathed, smiling as if all the pain had dissipated from her body, and her soul. "He looks… so much like you… As if, you never left…"

' _Is-is that his name?'_

"Why didn't you tell me? How could you-" he began with a start, half-mad from the anger and frustration of the situation.

Suchin took it in stride, simply too tired to argue. Yet her words, soft and profound, afflicted perhaps the deepest blow of the night.

"Exactly, my love… How could I?"

His failure, his loss and his shame was all enshrined in the question. How could she have told him about their son, when he was the one who never returned her letters? How was it her fault, when he was the one who ran away from her? How was it her responsibility, when he was the one who never turned back to protect her?

Kenshi's head spun with more questions – yet they all ended with the same answer: the blame rested with him. He stood shamefacedly before his own conscience – he could find no excuse, he was equally guilty for Suchin's predicament, as he would have been had he pulled the trigger.

' _My… Our, son?'_

As if the female was the telepathic one, Suchin sighed deathly, her voice failing her: "With Dara… Go! Protect… Takeda…"

"Don't!"

"He's all… I have… left."

And with those words – her eyes rolled, the grip on his hands slackened, and the final vestiges of life ebbed away from her broken body.

Suchin Takahashi, was no more.

The tears rained down the swordsman's face – as he burrowed his face in the crook of his lover's neck and let out a scream – the distinct, tortured cry of a hunted, ravaged animal.

' _Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes, Kenshi… Suchin, is in your heart, always. She is eternal now…'_

The blade of Sento spoke singularly, and truly to him – quoting long-lost wisdom that shone like the brightest of beacons, tearing through his dark mind like a blinding ray of the sun itself.

"I am blind… and one with you now, Suchin…"

With a final, lingering kiss to the deceased's forehead, Takahashi Kenshi departed – submitting himself to the duty conferred to him as his beloved's dying wish.

' _Do not forget Our heir! Your son, Kenshi…'_

Daegon _will_ pay dearly.

* * *

Ahhh! So sappy, so cheesy, so overly tragic xD I promised cheese, and I delivered it :P

I'll admit, I have a tad bit more experience writing scenes where a main char is dying, or on the verge of death. T'is the ending of Tomb Raider's Angel of Darkness, and the prospect of a main character dying that had me turn to fanfiction way back when I was 10 years old xD So t'was nice redoing this again :P

 **References:**

" _ **Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation!"**_ A quote from Rumi, something I found at the very last minute but I think it just fit in so wonderfully with Kenshi :'D

Apart from that, you'll find hints of inspirational lyrics here and there – _**Evanescence's My Last Breath**_ was a major inspiration to this. And of course, I wrote this while listening to _**'Calling to the Night'**_ instrumental from the Metal Gear Series. The piano instrumental specifically, is a killer – and highly recommended :p As well as the original, Gaelic version of _**The Best is Yet to Come**_ (MGS series).

No other references, m'afraid :P

I tried to make this distinct as I could without inserting too much information, but of course, in my mind it fits into the verse laid out in the Takahashi Family Saga – so you'd might want to check that out too.

Apart from that, I'm just glad you all opened this fic! Please do leave me a review to let me know what you thought of it :'D Thanks and have a great new year everyone! 3


End file.
